


hero of the story

by lorspolairepeluche



Series: she makes it new [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, quasi-admittance of Feelings through storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorspolairepeluche/pseuds/lorspolairepeluche
Summary: The storyteller's tales are never about himself, so someone else has to tell his tale.





	

Varric had just sat back in his chair, letting himself relax after _finally_ finishing that whole sheaf of paperwork for the Merchants’ Guild, when another paper was slapped down in front of him and someone sat heavily down on the other side of the table. “Can you help me?”

“You want another story?” he asked.

Panna didn’t smile when she shook her head. Varric studied her for a moment, taking in her downcast eyes—cloudy grey-blue rather than their usual bright azure—and her posture—shoulders hunched where they were usually relaxed and proud.

“Hey. She-Bear. Look at me.”

Panna glanced up once at Varric, reluctant, as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

She shrugged halfheartedly. “Oh. Nothing, really. Just that I’m a stupid child who’ll never amount to anything, let alone inherit my family’s position in the Carta.” The words were hollow, as if they were something she had heard repeated many times. Varric could just see a faceless dwarf screaming them at a younger Panna as her head hung.

“They were wrong.”

Panna looked up just enough to see Varric’s brows drawing together. “Who?”

“Whoever told you you were stupid. You’re not.”

“Tell it to my parents,” she sighed, waving a hand at the letter she’d dropped in front of him. “The way they talk, I could be a concussed nug.”

“Look, She-Bear, if they could see you making battlefield strategies, they’d change their minds pretty fast. Not everyone’s cut out for Carta work, and there’s different ways of being smart.”

“They were going to make me just a plain soldier,” Panna said quietly. “Someone to do their dirty work.”

“You’d make a terrible grunt,” Varric chuckled. “You’d mouth off at your boss and get yourself in trouble daily. Trust me; I’ve been there. Plus, you’re too pretty to be a common soldier.”

That coaxed a giggle from her, and Varric smiled, pushing away the letter. He’d read it later, probably send back a strongly-worded reply about how to show proper respect to the Inquisitor. “She-Bear, if they think you’re stupid, they just never paid attention. You’re one of the best battle strategists I’ve ever worked under.”

“Does that include the Hawkes?” Panna asked.

Varric scoffed a laugh. “Grizzly and Blackbear? Their most common strategy was ‘burn everything down and chug healing potions.’ Drove the others up the wall. You should’ve seen Broody after Blackbear took a hit to the head that one time.” He grinned. “So, yeah. That definitely includes the Hawkes.”

And, finally, Panna smiled too. “‘That one time’?” she repeated. “She only got hit in the head once?”

“She made sure to never get concussed around Broody again, that’s for sure.” Varric grinned, and not only at the memory. Any smile he got from Panna, especially when she had been so upset just a moment ago, was a treasure.

Panna laughed at that. “Protective, is he?”

“Bear Cub, you have no idea…”

\--

“You never tell stories about yourself.”

Varric startled from the comfortable silence the two of them had fallen into after several anecdotes about Fenris and Marian’s lovers’ spats in front of their companions—while still injured, surrounded by dead bodies, and in the middle of several different Darktown streets. “What?”

“You never tell stories about yourself. It’s always the Hawkes or King Alistair or someone. Never you. Why’s that?” Panna looked up at him from where her head rested on her arms atop the table. Her eyes had returned to their usual bright blue, and the amount of sheer trust in them threw Varric off-guard. No one had looked at him like that since the last days before Kirkwall went to shit—no. Not even then. There was something there in Panna’s expression, a quiet understanding that not even the Hawkes had, as if she already knew his answer.

No one had looked at him like that since _Bianca._

“Ah, I’m no hero,” he said, dropping her gaze and sitting back in his chair. He folded his arms. “Stories about me wouldn’t be good ones.”

“But you’ve seen so much, and you’re still alive.”

“That doesn’t make me a hero, Bear Cub,” Varric corrected. “That just makes me a witness.”

He could feel Panna still studying him, still with her chin on her arms, swinging her legs under the chair she was definitely too short for. _You’re the hero, She-Bear,_ he wanted to tell her. _You and Tiger and Lioness and Snapdragon._

“Once, there was a dwarf.” Panna’s voice started soft, but gained volume when Varric looked back up at her. “He was handsome enough to look at: square jaw, a wonderful amount of chest hair, eyes that always had a twinkle for his friends. But what really made him valuable beyond all the gold in Orzammar was his heart. It was a good heart, the biggest in Thedas. There was always room for someone new in his heart, and he made friends as easily as you breathe. And he was brave. Brave enough to face down a high dragon for his friends. And no matter how much he witnessed, no matter how much hardship he went through, no matter how many times that big heart of his got broken, he always had a smile for whoever needed it, a story for whoever would listen. And all these things, bound together in one, made him a hero. A quiet kind of hero, the kind who wouldn’t think he was a hero. But he was. He is—the greatest hero I’ve ever met.” She finished her story very quietly, her eyes still fixed on Varric’s.

For once, Varric’s voice had deserted him. It took him several moments before he finally managed, “Is that—is that really how you see me?” He mentally kicked himself for asking as soon as the words left his mouth; Panna didn’t _lie._ Not about shit like that. But he had to make sure…

“Yes,” Panna said simply. “You’re a hero, Varric.” She hesitated, looked away, said softer, “You’re _my_ hero.” Abruptly, she pushed her chair back from the table. “I’ll…see you around, Varric.”

“Hey. Panna.”

She turned back to see Varric leaning over the table, as if he had half a mind to follow her. It wasn’t his usual quick smirk he gave her, it was a genuine smile, as honest as his single word.

“Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> raise your hand if u resent the fact that bioware wouldn't let us romance varric
> 
> raise the other if you live in headcanon land and romance him anyway


End file.
